Chapter Two: You’re Not Good Enough

Mo Fan stared at the forest behind him, a trace of tension in his expression.

Ever since he was driven here half a month ago, he had often been harassed by large creatures, but never had any real battle occurred. So, whenever there was some noise in the woods, he usually paid it no mind.

As long as those things didn't attack him, he could live freely, unwilling to bother with them.

But the recent rustling was unlike those in the past.

His body shifted, and with a swift movement, Mo Fan vanished from his spot, grabbing a tree branch as he chased after the sound.

Under the scattered starlight, he could only glimpse a figure swiftly weaving through the thicket.

The silhouette moved at incredible speed, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Mo Fan's brows furrowed, unease rising within him. No one dared approach this place even in daylight, let alone at night.

The villagers all feared the poisonous sores on his body; none would risk their lives for such a thing.

Yet the shadow that flashed by was undoubtedly a person—of that Mo Fan was confident.

"Who could it be?"

Mo Fan stood atop a high branch, pondering deeply.

After some time, he leapt down, muttering, "Whoever it is, as long as they don't interfere with my business, all will be fine. Otherwise, even if it’s the king of heaven himself, I’ll do what needs to be done."

If people don’t provoke me, I won’t provoke them.

Stepping on the dry leaves, Mo Fan made his way to the depths of the forest, where a concealed cave lay hidden, difficult to find—his current refuge.

Not long ago, when the villagers searched the mountain, he hid there and escaped disaster.

"Who’s there? Show yourself!"

After only a few steps, Mo Fan sensed something amiss; it felt as though something was following him.

He stopped and shouted loudly.

Swish, swish!

Two arrows flew from behind, aiming for the vital spot at the back of Mo Fan’s head.

Mo Fan didn’t move. Relying on his acute hearing, he sidestepped just as the arrows neared, avoiding them as lightly as a breeze.

Repaying aggression with aggression!

Ha!

Mo Fan stomped hard on the ground, stirring up thick layers of dead branches and leaves. Using their cover, he darted through the ancient woods and, with a thunderous punch, struck a body, instantly sending it flying.

His sudden attack stunned several figures, their eyes wide as they stared at Mo Fan, unable to look away.

"He-he-he-he, he’s still alive…"

"I-I-I-I, I must be seeing ghosts…"

The group stammered, as if they’d seen the lord of hell, nearly frightened out of their wits.

"Mo… Mo Fan! It really is you!" Chen Dong, the calmest among them, had fired those two arrows. Staring at Mo Fan, awkwardly, he said, "I didn’t expect you to still be alive, though I doubt you’ll last much longer."

---

"No need for your concern," Mo Fan replied coldly, turning to leave. Though he and Chen Dong lived in the same village, Mo Fan had always despised his arrogant, self-centered manner.

Their dispositions clashed; since childhood, they were adversaries, inevitably at odds whenever they met.

"Stop! Who said you could leave?"

Seeing Mo Fan just turn away, refusing to give him any respect, Chen Dong gripped his longbow tightly and shouted loudly.

Mo Fan paid no heed to Chen Dong’s wolfish, slaughterhouse voice, stepping forward and treading on the dry leaves.

Such a person was not worth his attention.

He had no desire to be entangled further.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!

A roar sounded behind him, and a longbow whistled through the night, thundering straight for Mo Fan.

Having cultivated spiritual energy since childhood, though he hadn’t formed his own domain, he had honed considerable skill.

As the longbow hurtled toward him, Mo Fan’s brow twitched; with sharp senses and nimble feet, he dodged the attack in a few steps, his back to the group, feeling somewhat uneasy.

But after living together for over a decade, unless there was a major conflict, he tolerated it and moved on.

Over the years, Mo Fan had always been seen as a coward by everyone—not only had he achieved nothing in cultivation, but whenever he was bullied by villagers, he would laugh off grudges.

With time, everyone regarded him as a weakling, treating him as they wished.

He never grew angry because of this; as his grandfather taught him, "A true man does not fuss over trifles. A gentleman stands firm and undefeated beneath the heavens."

Chen Dong was the most typical of Mo Fan’s tormentors. To him, Mo Fan was a mere clown, not worth his notice. Their encounters were little more than sport, using Mo Fan as a plaything.

But seeing Mo Fan dodge those attacks just now made Chen Dong reevaluate this youth, whose body was riddled with poisonous sores, and even feel a faint sense of fear.

"Mo Fan, you’ve hurt someone and expect to just walk away!"

Chen Dong muttered, a barely concealed murderous aura flickering in his eyes.

He’d always despised the so-called wastrel Mo Fan, unwilling to dirty the reputation of the talented youth from Shenmu Village on someone like him. Especially now, with Mo Fan afflicted by that strange disease, Chen Dong dismissed him even more.

Yet, in that instant, Chen Dong sensed an inexplicable crisis from Mo Fan—a subtle but undeniable feeling.

For Chen Dong, no one could be allowed to surpass him, let alone anyone who made him feel threatened, even if only slightly.

Thus, at this moment, he harbored murderous intent toward the foul-smelling youth before him.

"So what?"

Mo Fan replied quietly, unconcerned. Though not far from Chen Dong, he sensed the killing intent emanating from him.

Though Chen Dong concealed it well, Mo Fan still caught a subtle trace.

"Leave your life behind; return to the village and give everyone an explanation!"

Chen Dong’s expression grew cold, his words revealing his intentions.

Spiritual power gathered in his palm—he was about to attack Mo Fan.

---

"You?" Mo Fan replied coldly, turning to face Chen Dong, sneering, "You’re not good enough!"

His expression remained calm, his tone carrying an undeniable arrogance.

Now that Chen Dong intended to kill him, there was no need to humble himself—such humility would never win compassion, only lead to death.

So why bother?

Hearing this, Chen Dong felt as though the coward before him was looking down on him; he shuddered slightly, sparks flashing in his eyes.

A powerful surge of energy burst from his body, blowing open his cloak. With several quick steps, he reached Mo Fan in an instant.

Boom!

A mighty force struck Mo Fan, sending him flying several meters, dead leaves scattering through the air.

Chen Dong’s attack was fierce; with just one move, he sent Mo Fan reeling, clearly showing a considerable gap in their strength.

The group behind gasped, awed by the power of Chen Dong’s strike.

They had never witnessed Chen Dong’s true strength, but based on this single blow, they were certain that Mo Fan was doomed.

Mo Fan was knocked back, his arm numb, the string of poisonous sores burst open by the blow, yellow fluid seeping out.

Steadying himself, he flexed his numb arm, enduring the pain from his ruptured sores. In a flash, he swept his leg at Chen Dong.

"Come on, Mo Fan! Everyone fears the stench on your body, but I, Chen Dong, am not afraid. If I’m unlucky enough to catch this wretched disease, I’ll crack open my own skull for a swift death."

Chen Dong muttered, a spark of spiritual light flashing from his dantian. Several ice spikes shot out with a boom, heading for Mo Fan.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

Mo Fan’s sweeping leg shattered all the ice spikes Chen Dong conjured. With a scissor kick, he attacked Chen Dong.

"Who would’ve thought that stinking Mo Fan was so formidable?" A few youths nearby stared wide-eyed, now seeing Mo Fan in a new light.

Chen Dong was hailed as the young cultivation prodigy of Shenmu Village, already able to form his own domain. His attack was not something ordinary people could withstand, yet Mo Fan survived his blow and could counterattack—those onlookers were astounded.

They knew that none of them could have endured Chen Dong’s strike.

Seeing Mo Fan destroy his ice spikes, Chen Dong was also shocked. He moved both hands, and an ice wall formed instantly, blocking Mo Fan’s scissor kick, not even allowing his clothes to be touched.

"Your foul, poisonous sores are not fit to touch my clothes—get lost!"

With a shout, the ice wall around Chen Dong exploded, unleashing a force that sent Mo Fan flying.

"Pu!"

Mo Fan spat a mouthful of blood; Chen Dong’s strike had caused him significant internal injury.

"Well? Not bad, right? My ice wall formed from my domain!" Chen Dong said smugly, lightly tapping the drops of water on his shoe, his lips curling into a sinister smile as he boasted about his domain.

"Mo Fan, go die!"

Chen Dong stared wickedly at Mo Fan, speaking slowly and deliberately. An ice pillar hovered above, controlled by his will, and crashed down on Mo Fan.